


What Dreams May Come

by devilinthedetails



Series: Naboo's Queen [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Nightmares, Prophecy, Visions of the Future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:00:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26180782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilinthedetails/pseuds/devilinthedetails
Summary: Anakin, Padme, and their prophetic dreams. An expansion of a scene from ROTS.
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Series: Naboo's Queen [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1901239
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	What Dreams May Come

“To die, to sleep—to sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub for in this sleep of death, what dreams may come?”—Hamlet, William Shakespeare

What Dreams May Come

In her dream, Padme was twelve again. She was ensconced in the gauzy shimmersilk drapes of the tealeaf reader’s tent, the heady aroma of the incense the tealeaf reader burned to better commune with the supernatural teasing her nostrils until she ached with the suppressed urge to sneeze.

“Drink until only the dregs remain.” The tealef reader, who wore her old age in wrinkled lines on her cheeks, handed Padme a steaming cup of red leaf tea.

Padme lifted the porcelain cup to her lips, wondering why she had let her friends talk her into such superstitious nonsense when she was supposed to be smarter and more sophisticated than this, and sipped the crimson beverage. It stained her teeth scarlet as blood, and she knew it would take fierce brushing to restore her teeth to pure white again.

Once she emptied the cup, she returned it to the tealeaf reader. The tealeaf reader might have been near-sighted if the way she squinted her eyes and tilted her head as she studied the markings in Padme’s cup for some sign of what the future held for her dubious customer was any indication.

“You’ll be a great leader who steers your people through war and hard times with a steady hand,” the tealeaf reader declared at last, causing shivers to snake up Padme’s spine though she didn’t believe in prophecy. “You’ll marry young. You’ll be happy at first, but your happiness will transform into sorrow bitter as red leaf tea. You’ll die giving birth to light and hope.”

Padme stirred in her sleep as she felt her husband jolt into a sitting position beside her. She remained curled on her side beneath the blankets she clutched closer about her as he turned away from her, pressing his palms against his forehead in a gesture of devastating grief and crumbling stress.

A moment later, she felt the springs shift as he rose, snatching up a robe to pull over his shoulders. She rolled over in time to watch him disappear in the direction of her terrace.

Concerned about what dreams could be haunting his sleep, she followed him to the terrace with its stunning tile mosaics that glistened in the starlight. As she approached him, she admired the play of light and shadow on his features—how his skin shone bronze in the muted glow of the outdoor lamps.

“What’s bothering you?” she asked softly, dreading the answer with every bone in her body as she stroked his back soothingly. Beneath her palm, she could feel where his sweat had soaked through his robe.

“Nothing.” Anakin forced a smile of what had to be false bravado. He was lying to protect her, and that made her forehead furrow.

His tone and smile drifting into almost wistful territory, he reached for the japor snippet he had hewn for her as an eager-eyed slave boy from Tatooine—a snippet she treasured, wearing about her neck as a talisman and constant reminder of his love even while she slept. “I remember when I gave this to you.”

It was a sweet memory for both of them—her offering him comfort on his first voyage through the icy void of space and him giving her a piece of jewelry he had carved for her in return—and it always would be, but now she sensed it was also a not particularly deft attempt to distract her and change the subject. Her Anakin was many things, but not a master of subtlety.

“How long is it going to take for us to be honest with each other?” She voiced the greatest frustration and sorrow of their marriage.

Anakin stiffened and turned away from her. She thought he wouldn’t respond, but instead he replied in a flat, dispassionate manner, “It was a dream.”

“Bad?” Padme’s throat tightened as she recalled his prescient nightmares about his mother and her own strange dreams tonight that had made her sleep fitful.

“Like the ones I used to have about my mother just before she died.” Anakin’s words were a stark confirmation of Padme’s worst fears.

“And?” She knew where he was headed but had to hear him say it anyway. She had to know the truth so she could face it without flinching.

“And it was about you.” He looked at her, eyes heavy with grief, and then stared stonily forward again.

“Tell me,” she urged, continuing to stroke at the knotted tension in his back.

“It was only a dream.” Anakin stood and wandered away from her.

She gazed at him with naked worry on her face, and perhaps he could sense it for he spun around to face her again with the appearance and attitude of a broken man. Grimly, he pronounced the fate he had seen for her: “You die in childbirth.”

“And the baby?” Padme’s hands wrapped around the bulge of her pregnancy as if that would ward off any threat to the life growing inside her womb.

“I don’t know,” Anakin admitted, taut as a strained wire.

Deciding that she had to be brave for both of them, she stepped toward him to provide what consolation she could. Her words ringing hollow in her own ears, she said, “It was only a dream.”

“I won’t let this one become real.” Anakin was every centimeter the defiant determination that had made her fall in love with him.

“This baby will change our lives.” Padme’s eyes were wide and serious with all the fears she’d had months to create in her mind. Reflecting on everything she had given up for him and he for her, she went on, “I doubt the Queen will continue to allow me to serve in the Senate, and if the Council discovers you’re the father, you’ll be expelled…”

“I know…I know…” Anakin’s fingers rose to forestall the truth he couldn’t bear to hear.

Daring to voice the hope that she had held tight as a secret to her heart in the long months he had been absent from Coruscant, she had been pregnant, and she had fretted about his future as a Jedi, she suggested tentatively, “Do you think Obi-Wan might be able to help us?”

Obi-Wan was on the Council, and he was Anakin’s best friend—the man Anakin had claimed on more than one occasion was like a father to him. If any Jedi could help them, it would be Obi-Wan, Padme was certain of that, but Anakin was not.

His expression hardened as if they weren’t speaking of the man who was his best friend and mentor since he was nine but some enemy. “We don’t need his help.” 

He didn’t realize how much Obi-Wan loved him, Padme realized, her spine cold as ice. Perhaps it was something only a future mother could see.

She wished that she could find the words to convince him of Obi-Wan’s love—to persuade him to trust Obi-Wan with their secret as terrible as it was wonderful—but he spoke first as if it was he who had to convince her that they needed help from no one, “Our baby is a blessing.”

She couldn’t argue with that sentiment and admired how strong he was trying to be, for her and for them both, so she leaned against him, letting her fears and uncertainties melt into the warmth of his body.


End file.
